Insubordination
by Miss-Murdered
Summary: When Zechs calls Trowa into his office to be punished for insubordination things get interesting. 6x3. One-shot. *2014 Smut-Off involving Trowa and ties* with Clara Barton


Disclaimer: I own nothin'

Pairings/Warnings: 6x3, implied 1x2, m/m smut, humour-ish?, ack just read it…

A/N: Okay... so another fic from me due to the fact me and Clara Barton have challenged each other to a smut-off that involves Trowa and ties! So here is my opening "shot". We are bad influences on each other...

* * *

**Insubordination**

The tension in Zechs Merquise's office was thick as a young man glared at him sullenly, his arms folded across his chest. It was not the first time that Zechs had to deal with a Gundam pilot being brought to his office for insubordination but it was not going to be the last either. It just usually wasn't Trowa Barton.

Zechs sometimes thought his position in the Preventers was a punishment. That Une had given him this role not because of his actions during the war but because of his complicated relationship with Treize so putting him in this role, the commanding officer of the five former Gundam pilots was a way of making him suffer.

Which perhaps it was. As it did include many headaches and much annoyance for him. Barton, out of all of them, was the one he saw least apart from Winner. That was due to the fact Winner was part time compared to the other four as well as the fact he seemed to not have the attitude problems the other's had.

Yuy was a constant problem. Rude, uncommunicative, and used to using violence to solve issues. He had punched both colleagues and superior officers and experienced multiple suspensions. And multiple times sat across from Zechs. It was made even worse when it was combined with Maxwell and their indiscreet sexual relationship. Zechs had discovered it when he'd walked into the men's room to hear the sounds of panted moans and "fuck me harder's", shouting for them to come to his office when they were done and having to stare down two young men with mussed hair and rumpled uniforms.

If the relationship didn't make Maxwell problematic, there was much more that made Zechs want to pull his own hair out and Maxwell's every time he had the misfortune of seeing him in his office. Problems included the braid, the way he dressed inappropriately, his sunglasses, his attitude and generally a million other things. Zechs got sick of Maxwell in his office and had begged Une to fire him on more than one occasion. To which Une would always quirk an eyebrow.

"More than you can handle, Merquise?"

His response to that was always a "no" as he hated when Une called into question his ability. Almost as much as he hated dealing with five teenage ex-terrorists.

Chang tended to be a model Preventer for long stretches of time and Zechs, at first, had liked him. As he gave him the least paperwork and the least need to go home and drown himself in booze after some altercation. But Zechs had soon discovered that Chang was a model Preventer most of the time but when he exploded… well, there was blood to clean. He'd once thought he'd kill Maxwell if Yuy hadn't pulled him off him. And that was not the best method of "team co-operation".

However, Barton had never been sat across from him before. Zechs leaned forward to stare at the young man, a little disturbed by the way he couldn't see both eyes, it felt like he was concealing but Zechs knew that Trowa Barton was an expert at infiltration, more than that, he was the sneakiest of all the Gundam pilots and perfect for undercover work. And so concealing was in his very nature.

"You know why you're here?" Zechs asked.

Zechs felt sometimes like a stern headmaster telling off school children but he supposed he almost was. Except that these school children knew how to use semi-automatic weapons, decapitate men with only wire and a tooth-pick and how to bypass all known security systems both virtual and in the physical world. Which made the five former Gundam pilots the most irritating Preventer agents for him to be in charge of.

The answer was a nod and Zechs tried not to sigh. As shit, Barton was well known as the least communicative of them and he was unsure whether this reprimand would do any good when all he seemed to be doing was glaring at him from underneath his hair.

"Then you understand why I have to suspend you for your insubordination?"

Barton nodded and Zechs grit his teeth. He was getting increasingly frustrated and he had only had Barton in his office for fifteen minutes. This was not going to go well.

Maybe Une's punishment was appropriate. Appropriate for a man who once tried to bring eternal winter on earth and a man who had made the mistake of being in a relationship with a man Une loved. It seemed Treize's ghost would forever haunt him. Sighing, Zechs decided to stand, walking towards the window to look out at the grey blandness of a dull Brussels day. On a day like to day he missed the thrill of a mobile suit battle and he was sure Barton did to. There was not enough adrenalin in the Preventers. Only the occasional mission with gunfire and blood and a body count and those moments Zechs lived for. And maybe that's why Barton had lost control in the cafeteria. Sometimes Zechs spent too long in the gym, using a punching bag, sometimes he went to a bar and picked someone up and they were his coping methods. The ex-Gundam pilots were young, discovering their own.

"I know what he said," Zechs said softly, "but unfortunately, people will always resent you. I would advise you don't rise to it next time."

He turned and Barton spoke for the first time since he entered the office. "I won't."

Zechs raised an eyebrow as he couldn't recall the last time he'd heard him speak and he walked towards the desk, in front of Barton and sat himself on the edge.

"It isn't fair but you understand Preventer is made up of people who were on all sides of the war and we have to foster… co-operation."

The last words felt hollow and false to Zechs as Une preached "co-operation" but for the bottom of the rung agents, it was complicated. As people worked alongside people who had killed comrades and allegiances, while attempted to be hidden, always ended up coming out. And the former Gundam pilots were too recognisable. Too well known. It perhaps didn't help that they were aloof and kept to themselves but then Zechs didn't blame them. As they suffered the most abuse.

And Tomlin was just one of many guys who had made comments about them being "murderers" and that they should be "tried for war crimes" and some other insults that Zechs didn't want to repeat. So he understood that Barton had, in one moment, lost control and instead of taking it, had punched Tomlin in the gut and kicked him hard when he hit the ground. Unfortunately, Tomlin may've been a dick, but he was also a superior and had been an ex-OZ soldier with connections to Une. And Barton had been ordered to stop. And had not.

"So I can do nothing but put you on suspension without pay for a week."

There was only the slightest shrug of shoulders in response and Zechs was annoyed at Barton's reaction.

"Do you want to add anything to your defence?"

He thought of all the times he'd had Maxwell in his office, protesting his innocence and telling him it was everyone else who were douches, or when Yuy and Chang told him that someone else started the fight. Whatever, they all always had something to say but Barton didn't. He should've figured that one out – Barton was an exemplary agent but was a man of actions rather than words - and Zechs could respect that.

And he acted rather than spoke. They were close, Zechs not having previously noted that as his mind had been preoccupied by the punishment he was meant to be bestowing when a hand rested on his thigh, just lightly and he glanced down at the young man. True, Zechs did find the ex-Gundam pilots intriguing and attractive, but he had never truly thought of it. Passing moments. They had all grown up from the fresh faced fifteen year olds, their bodies filled out, taller, their jaws more defined. They'd got tattoos, they'd lost that innocent appearance and Zechs had watched them for the past two years turn from boys into men. Yet he hadn't really looked at Trowa Barton.

At that hair that looked impossibly soft that hung down in that bang, to the eyes that were a deep, almost unnatural green. His jaw was set and his face incredibly handsome and as he looked further, his frame was well built, muscular, gorgeous. Zechs had no real sexual preference. He'd fucked men and women without care and he remembered Treize's phrase.

"I appreciate beauty in whatever forms."

Zechs thought the term was pretentious but still, Barton had been a Gundam pilot. And he was the commanding officer. And anything beyond the gentle touch of a hand on his thigh would be insubordination.

"Don't," Zechs murmured, "I'm your commanding officer."

There was a small snort that blew the bang a little and instead of retreating, Barton leaned forward, and Zechs felt like he should stop whatever was happening but was reluctant to when the hand firmly kneaded his thigh, trailing up to his groin, and all of a sudden, Barton's hand was in his lap, rubbing his cock through thick uniform pants, his dick responding to the attention like an hormonal teenager. Which Barton was. Zechs, however, wasn't.

"What are you doing?"

"Being insubordinate. If I'm being suspended, I might as well do something worth the docked pay."

It was the longest sentence he'd ever heard the younger man say and Zechs found himself moaning when the hand continued to caress, his cock going to fully hard with a few firm touches and as much as it was wrong – his office, one of his own agents, an ex-Gundam pilot, he was powerless to stop when Barton licked his lips in a way that was incredibly erotic and used his nimble fingers to undo button and lower the zipper. And that hand delved inside with a skill that Zechs hadn't anticipated, touching him from base to tip.

When Barton stroked him, it was with a sureness that made Zechs head go back and he felt himself tremble at only a hand job. This feeling got worse when Barton stood, his height a match to his own and he leant towards Zechs tentatively, their faces close and it was as though he was asking permission. Zechs took the initiative back, leaning into the kiss, brushing their lips together at first before thrusting his tongue inside his mouth, the hand still working cock, a thumb brushing across the head.

The kiss was hot and heady, better than anyone he'd kissed for a long time and maybe it was because there was something forbidden but the intensity was going to make him come, embarrassingly quick, like he hadn't since Treize taught him everything as a teen.

He grabbed for the tie, dragging Barton's lips away and he looked puzzled for a second, the hand stilling.

"I -"

Zechs didn't get to say anything more as Barton dropped to his knees, his mouth taking the head between his lips, a tongue lapping in the slit and his hand working the rest of his hard flesh. It didn't take much more than a few more strokes and sucking at the tip for Zechs to come, his eyes closing and his fingers digging into the wooden surface underneath him.

Without another word, Barton got to his feet and smirked, Zechs realising he'd already swallowed. He leant forward for one more brush of lips, the salty taste on his tongue.

"This doesn't mean you aren't suspended," Zechs said when they parted.

"I promise not to be _insubordinate _again."

And he left the office then, Zechs watching him go, remembering to adjust his pants and then he smirked. Actually out of the all the ex-Gundam pilots, he hoped Trowa Barton would be insubordinate again.


End file.
